


A Year In Motion: Rain in February

by Miss_Mil



Series: A Year In Motion [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/pseuds/Miss_Mil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His voice cuts through the silence. The question is the bluntest one he’s ever asked, and it’s laced with everything personal they try so hard to avoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year In Motion: Rain in February

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two is here! Thank you all for the response to this series, it's been amazing! 
> 
> And so our favourite duo continue on their journey as we move to the month of February.

The irony of the month of February being associated with water is not lost on Sam as she stands on the runway of Groom Lake. Of all the days for it to rain in Nevada, it has to be this one. She waits impatiently, watching as the aircraft lands in what seems like slow motion. Before long, his tall figure is striding across the runway; blue overcoat moving in the cold breeze. 

Sam draws her own coat around her tightly. For the desert, it can be really cold here. 

She salutes him as he comes close.

‘Sir.’

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he is trying hard not to smile. He salutes her back with a quick glance at the people who stand behind her. It’s not the first time she wishes they were gone, because she’d really like to do something very un-Colonel like and hug the General.

She really misses him. 

But she misses all of them; Daniel, Teal’c, General Hammond. 

Life goes on but she is craving the familiarity of the old times. 

They make their way into the facility, passing through several corridors before arriving at her office. Small, dully-lit and the complete opposite of the lab she had at the SGC. It’s another reminder that her life here is so different. 

She stands stiffly as he places his briefcase down on the chair. 

‘So, Carter. Nice chair.’

She grins, the tension leaving her body. ‘Thanks Sir.’

What she really wants to say is “how have you been?” but this is not the place for such personal discussions with several scientists hovering just outside her door. She feels on edge given their parting words a month ago at his cabin. 

A part of her still can’t believe it’s happened; that they are no longer in the same chain of command.

He removes his cover and runs his hand through the short grey spikes; water droplets landing on the floor. 

She clears her throat. ‘Well, uh, where would you like to start?’ God, that question could be answered so many ways. 

Sam watches as he resists the urge to roll his eyes. The idea of having a full three days at Groom Lake dedicated to technological-based lectures and updates was so not the O’Neill idea of fun. He glances out the window to the corridor, sighing as he sees the line-up of people just itching to gloat about their latest find. 

‘Start with whichever will be the least boring, Carter.’

She can’t help the grin. ‘For you Sir, they will all be boring.’ She states it so matter-of-fact that the surprise on his face is obvious as he pauses mid-way to fixing his water-logged overcoat on its way to the coat stand. 

‘Touché Carter.’ 

She feels his eyes on her as she moves out of the door in front of him, pushing her way past the people outside her office to the first place he needs to go. They arrive quickly, and Sam stops outside the door, an air of a smirk on her face. 

‘Here you are, Sir. Doctor Williams is waiting for you. I’ll tell your aid where you are.’ 

He stands, staring at her with a look of disbelief on his face. 

‘Carter, are you seriously going to leave a General alone in a complex full of gee-er-scientists?’ 

She smiles at him indulgently. ‘Yes Sir. Sorry.’ 

She turns on her heel and walks briskly down the corridor, the heels of her dress shoes echoing loudly. ‘Have fun!’

The scoff he utters can be heard from the other end of the corridor.

o-O-o

It’s many hours later, the hands of the clock indicating that the day has moved well into the night, and Sam sits behind her desk, tapping madly on the keyboard of her computer.   
She would never admit it to herself, but the house she has in Nevada is just not home to her, and she spends more time in her office than she does elsewhere. The office is not the lab from the SGC she misses, but the pictures behind her somehow make it feel more personal than the house or base quarters. 

A loud scuffle from outside her door distracts her for a moment. The door opens wildly, and a rather relieved General steps in.

‘Carter.’ 

His stare penetrates through the room, and the corners of her mouth begin to lift in a supressed smile. The whole thing is ridiculous, a General hiding because he doesn’t want to listen to more scientific babble. He looks like he has had a long, suffering day. 

‘General,’ she acknowledges, closing the lid to her laptop with a definite click. 

She holds her breath, waiting. She doesn’t know what they are doing. The shift is now perceptible, the light-hearted banter gone as the day has slowly turned dark. 

She doesn’t know what they are doing. 

They stare at each other for a moment. The change from team mates to something with the potential for more is easier than she expected, but she admits it’s because nothing has really started either. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since those few days at his cabin in January. 

They haven’t even had that conversation that she has been thinking of for years. Admittedly they were never going to jump each other the second they were out of the same chain of command. But she didn’t expect nearly two months to have passed and all they’d managed was a brief promise of something more in between snow falls at his cabin. 

And it was beginning to get as awkward as hell. 

‘So, dinner?’ O’Neill tosses casually, the voice slicing through the atmosphere easily. 

‘Sure,’ Sam answers, knowing that the only place they’d be going was the mess given the late hour. She knows nothing personal will ever happen in any military base. 

They stroll quietly down the corridor, Sam’s thoughts far away. 

By the time they reach the mess hall, most of the staff has gone home and there is nothing but a few sandwiches left. She opts for something simple and grabs a juice. 

No blue jell-o here. 

That’s just another thing she hates about Nevada in a list that is starting to get rather long. 

O’Neill is munching on a donut. She doesn't think that between his donut, and her juice, this could really be classed as dinner. 

He waves the iced ring around as he speaks. ‘So, Carter. Do I really have to be here another two days?’

Sam resists the urge to roll her eyes. ‘Well I suppose you don’t have to Sir, but for the record, your visits are a lot nicer than some of the other generals that come here.’ 

His dark eyes twinkle as he takes another mouthful of donut. ‘Why Carter, I didn’t know you cared.’

She looks taken aback for a moment at the sincerity in his voice, swallowing before plastering a look on her face that fails to hide how unnerved she really is about seeing him again. 

She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, her eyes dropping to the juice in her hand, fingers picking idly at the label. 

‘Do you like it here in Nevada?’

His voice cuts through the silence. The question is the bluntest one he’s ever asked, and it’s laced with everything personal they try so hard to avoid. 

‘I am getting through a lot of interesting projects. All the things I’ve wanted to do but didn’t have time when I was on SG-1.’ 

It’s her standard response, and she can tell his doesn’t buy it. But he lets it slide for now and for that she is grateful. 

‘Okay,’ he replies with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

Sam sighs. ‘I guess I am just not sure if this is really the right place for me.’ She picks up on his disbelief in her previous answer and figures that if they really are going to give this a chance; they may as well be honest. 

Jack nods. ‘Well, Hank has been at me every day to send you back to the SGC if that’s where you want to go.’

Sam’s heart jolts. A transfer back to the SGC would snuff whatever this was. After eight years of waiting, Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to give that chance away. 

She’s not even sure how Jack feels about her. 

But she doesn’t feel like she can ask him. 

‘I’d like to give it a few more months to settle in before I make any decisions,’ she reasons. ‘And I still have my Indian to keep me entertained.’

Jack smiles at her. ‘How could I forget?’

The clock is nearing midnight, and Sam knows she should probably say goodnight and head home. She can feel a beat of panic at the back of her mind, as if ending their conversation might just end this easy banter they’ve had going. 

Sam sighs and stands up. She can feel the gaze of Jack on her as she almost hears the burning question as to whether she is going home or staying on base. She knows the General will be on base, and somehow she thinks it would be better for the both of them if she goes home for the night. 

‘I can’t believe it’s past midnight,’ she says, attempting to fill the silence. 

She can hear him groan. 

‘The downside of being old Carter, you can’t pull the all-nighters you used to.’ 

Sam laughs. ‘You are far from old Sir.’ 

Jack runs his hand over his face uncomfortably. 

‘I’ll uh, walk you to your quarters Sir.’

She catches Jack’s surprised glance. 

‘It’s on my way out,’ she shrugs by way of explanation. She guessed now she had just answered her own question on where she was staying tonight. And it isn't on base. 

The tension between them only grows with each step toward his base quarters before they bid each other goodnight. 

o-O-o

As it turns out, they barely see much of each other during the remaining two days of the General’s visit to Groom Lake. She’s been busy with her head buried deep in projects and if she is really honest, she has no idea what the General has been up to. 

He has been out of her way and she is entirely grateful. 

She doesn’t need his distraction right now. 

But a part of her still yearns for the days he would come into her lab at SGC, touching anything he could get his hands on just to annoy her. Of course, that had really only started after Daniel banned O’Neill from his lab after breaking a five thousand year old piece of pottery. 

It’s now early on Friday morning, and Sam is pushing her way through the corridors to make it to her office. The General will be leaving, heading back to DC, and she knows it will be unlikely that she will see him beforehand. 

She doesn’t even know what she would say. 

So many questions are burning at the back of her mind, but she can never find the right time to say them. It seemed the only time she could voice the words was when she was sure one of them was going to die. Even then, Jack would never let her voice the words.

The engine bay of a cargo ship comes to mind; the two of them standing close as the lights from the engines flash around them. 

She’d been so angry that he hadn’t let her say the words. 

But even angrier that his ‘goodbye’ had been laced with so many more emotions. She could never forget the way his eyes followed her as the sleep took over; leaving him in the frozen earth for a second time. The anger still hasn't really ebbed away after the months have gone past. But she pushes it to the back of her mind. 

Sam pushes the door open with more force than she intends, grimacing as it slips from her hands and slams against the wall. ‘Oops,’ she mutters. 

‘Jesus Carter.’

She jumps, whirling around. Jack stares at her, smirking over the rim of his coffee cup. 

And he is sitting in her chair. 

They stare at each other for a few beats. 

‘What’s with the flowers?’ he asks, gesturing with his mug toward the offending yellow buds on the side of her desk. 

She idly wonders how he didn't notice them in his previous visits to her office. Or maybe he did. 

‘They’re from, uh, Mackay.’ 

Sam watches with interest as his eyebrows rise, then lower, then crease. 

‘Why?’ he throws out sarcastically. 

His disdain for the other scientist has been nothing if not obvious. 

Sam coughs, arching an eyebrow. ‘It’s February,’ she says simply.

She watches as the thoughts process through, and she can pin point the exact moment he gives up before growling out a grumpy ‘so?’

‘They’re for Valentine’s Day,’ she can hear the embarrassment leaching into her voice. 

The General snaps his hand back from the flowers, his eyes rising to glare at her from across the room. 

Sam raises her chin stubbornly, refusing to be embarrassed. ‘He sends them every year,’ she shrugs. 

‘Isn’t he you know, in another galaxy?’ 

‘Sometimes it’s nice to be thought of,’ she says simply. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but a sharp knock at the door cuts off what Sam thinks was a perfectly timed, witty reply. A junior officer steps through, glancing awkwardly between the two of them. 

‘General, your aircraft is waiting.’

Sam watches as he stands, grabbing his cover and striding toward her. She salutes him farewell, smiling as he rolls his eyes. 

The dull ache in her chest stays all day as she idly goes about her projects, a longing for his company that will not go away until she sees him again. It’s much later, hours after she received a short email informing her that he made it safely back to DC, and she sits staring at the yellow flowers.

The small card attached to the side of the wrapping has Mackay’s smug attitude all over it. They’ve settled into a friendship in the last year or so, but the distance with him being in another galaxy has a lot to do with it. 

She doesn’t mind the flowers, but if anyone asks it annoys the hell out of her. Valentine's Day has always given her comfort, it reminds her that there is still something bright in her world that is so often filled with death and darkness. She hasn't celebrated since Janet died. 

But something tells her that next Valentine’s Day will be different to this one. 

And the clichéd roses and chocolates will be coming from someone who hates the very idea of said clichés. 

Fin.


End file.
